


Odds Of

by ImmortalKoschei



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Author is a Gay Idiot, Escape from Arkham Asylum, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalKoschei/pseuds/ImmortalKoschei
Summary: Jonathan and Edward escape Arkham Asylum together. Their safe house isn't as well stocked as it should be.





	Odds Of

**Author's Note:**

> You can pull this trope from my cold dead hands

It had been an unspoken agreement upon first making eye contact in their shared cell at Arkham that both Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane were going to escape together. Jonathan wasn’t a romantic, he was practical, and until the day he died for good he would hold fast to the simple logic of the situation; Neither of them wanted to be there, and escaping was always easier when you had someone to watch your back. Their abscond had been no exception to that, and with the two working together to form a plan of escape they had, much to Edward’s very loud and obnoxious glee, escaped in record time. Jonathan was just happy that he still had underlings willing to risk imprisonment to see to his escape as he sat in the rickety fishing boat that had carried them to Dixon Docks on the west of Gotham. Edward, with unhindered enthusiasm, had jumped from the deck of the boat, haphazardly packed duffle bag slung over his shoulder, to the dock before it had even completely stopped.

“Forty three minutes and seven seconds!” Edward exclaimed as he gestured to the wrist watch he had gracelessly put on after they had retrieved their personal belongings, “Wait til the other rogues hear about this! No one has managed to escape Arkham and make shore on mainland Gotham in less than an hour.”

“Yes they’ll be very impressed Edward,” Jonathan hissed softly as he disembarked from the boat once it had been tied to a post, “and you’ll be able to tell them all about it when you’re caught by the police after giving away our location by screaming along the city docks at two in the morning!”

“It’s actually 2:06,” Edward corrected easily with that stupid, infectious grin, already beginning to shrug out of his Arkham regulated jumpsuit, leaving him in a white shirt and the jeans he had managed to trade for and slipped on beneath his jumpsuit in preparation for tonight. “You know, prison orange really isn’t your colour, Jon. Get into some civvies will you? Uniforms’ll give us away faster than some random loud asshole in the city.”

Unfortunately, while the uniform could technically wait, that was true. It was unfortunate, because Jonathan hated to admit when Edward was correct. Not because the man was an idiot, no, if anything he was one of the smartest members of the gallery, but because he always managed to make Jonathan look like an ass while doing so, and a man really didn’t have much when in prison other than his pride. So having to sit back and watch as Edward effortlessly humiliated him in front of others while he struggled to keep his composure had grated on Jonathan’s nerves in a way that no other member of the gallery could have ever managed to do. Jonathan wanted nothing more to hit Edward in the jaw, to watch a bruise bloom angrily, only to leave his face sore for several days. Instead, Jonathan silently grabbed his belongings from the small boat they had been in and turned to the nearest gangster.

“Henderson? Get rid of the boat, they’ll be looking for it as soon as they realize how we got out, which I suspect will be happening within the next hour. I don’t care how you do it, just do it quietly and without leaving large chunks of it around, yes? I’ll compensate whoever owns it if I have to,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” the gangster replied stiffly.

“Good man, is the car here yet? I want to get to the safe house and lie down.”

“Yes, Sir. It’s waiting at the street for both you and Mr. Nigma. We managed to secure the studio apartment in the financial district in Old Gotham; per your request.”

“Nearby Craig bridge?”

“That’s right, Sir, any need to escape the city should be with ease,” the gangster supplied proudly.

Jonathan hummed in acknowledgement, and had begun to turn towards the road when Edward decided to interject his way into the conversation by flinging his arms around Jonathan’s neck, making sure that they were facing each other.

“But Darlin’!” Edward said, doing his best to mock Jonathan's accent, which, despite the latter’s attempts at speech therapy, clung to his voice like vultures to a corpse. Edward knew Jonathan hated his accent. “Don’t you wanna do something fun? Our first night out back as free men! The sky’s the limit, sweetpea!”

“No, Edward, I do not,” Jonathan said with clear exasperation.

“Jonny! How many times do I need to tell ya? ‘Eddie’ is fine! You know no one calls me ‘Edward’. Besides, I think we’re close enough for pet names, don’t you think?”

Jonathan knew for a fact that neither of those statements were true. Everyone called him “Edward”, with the exception of Harley, who Jonathan had a sneaking suspicion had a major role to play in this act Edward was putting on for the crowd around them. He began to count to himself as he breathed deeply, keeping himself grounded. Edward had to humiliate him out here too, didn’t he? It wasn’t enough to do so when he couldn’t do anything about it, when there were guards and orderlies keeping them in their places and making sure that no one sustained physical damage outside of torture “punishment”, because mental health meant nothing in Arkham. They were all insane, they couldn’t get worse in that aspect. But out here was just the same? In front of his men and women? He couldn’t take this for much longer.

He raised his left fist quickly, and brought it to where Edward’s hands were linked behind his neck. With more willpower than he thought he had, Jonathan removed Edward’s hands from his person gently, and took a step back, out of arm's reach of his accomplice.

“You’ll have to tell me at least once more, Edward, because I did not realize that at some unannounced time during our escape, you became so familiar with me as I was apparently supposed to do with you,” Jonathan answered bluntly, ignoring Edward’s look of disappointment. On any other day, Jonathan would have bathed in the defeated look that Edward was wearing. He would have loved it. However, Jonathan was tired. He had spent the last thirty two hours spending every moment of his life around Edward Nigma in preparation for their escape, nothing about the man now was enjoyable. The only thing that sounded even somewhat pleasant to him now, was sleep on a decently soft surface. Which Edward seemed giddy to keep from him. Jonathan took a moment to remember the breathing exercises that Ivy had been teaching him to help him keep his mind in difficult situations. They weren't helping as much as they should.

“Now then, Mr. Nigma,” Jonathan spat harshly and only loud enough for Edward to hear him,“Your lack of any sort of social tact is wearing my patience very, very, thin, so I will put this as bluntly as I can so that I have even the slimmest chance of getting it through that incredibly thick skull of yours: I am exhausted. I have not had a decent night's sleep since being placed in Arkham, a fact that you should be very familiar with, considering that the same can be said for you and every other Rogue to be found in that padded concrete hellsite. That being said, what you do is no longer any of my concern. If you want to galavant across Gotham to enjoy your freedom in a loud, and foolish display, you may. Just don't let that loose tongue of yours ruin my life outside in the city.

" I made a promise to you that I would supply a safe place for the both of us if you helped me escape. You have upheld your side of the deal, and I will not go back on my word, you are welcome in that car and the apartment I have secured for use. However, if you do not stop your childish behavior and attempts to humiliate me here, where there are no guards to stop me, I promise you on my mother's grave that you will come to regret your transgressions; Do I make myself clear, Edward?”

To credit his intelligence, Edward did sober somewhat, but didn't allow his grin to completely fade from his face. He put his hands up, leveled with his chest, in a sign of surrender, and shrugged gently.  
“Crystal, Doc. May I suggest some food along the way, at least? Cheap takeout is fine, but going hand in hand with their poor housing at Arkham, was certainly low quality meals, don't you agree? You can choose, even. I'm not picky,” he offered.  
That was another blatant lie. It wasn't terribly obvious, but having spent so long around him, Jonathan knew that Edward was in fact an extraordinarily picky eater. Most people assumed it was because, true to what Edward had said, Arkham's food was of a horrendous quality that made grilled wild dog look like a delicacy, but Jonathan had seen it in time. Edward made a face at just about anything that was served to him. Even when it was the edible meals stolen or traded from Orderlies. With no slight amount of shock, Jonathan realized that this was Edward trying to apologize in his own way, and was almost pleased enough with the stark change in attitude that he almost dropped his cold demeanor for a more familiar one.

“...I don't want to risk stopping along the way. I'll have another group take a different car to get something. Will Indian do?” Jonathan offered, vaguely recalling a one-way conversation he had unwillingly had with Edward one night over dinner in the cafeteria, during which Edward wouldn't stop complaining and mentioning his craving for even a subpar curry.

Edward unfortunately lit up with excitement, losing any and all amount of aforementioned humility he had just been displaying to Jonathan. 

“Oh God, please I would kill for something with actual flavour to it!” Edward had said happily, already brushing past Jonathan to slide into the vehicle that he had had no interest in not even moments ago. Jonathan noticed that Edward didn't even have the common decency to ensure there was enough room in the back seat by placing his belongings in the trunk. Instead, he had crawled in, a mass of gangly limbs and overly stuffed duffels squished into a too small space.

Jonathan scrubbed his face with his free hand, and with a sigh, informed the same goon as before about picking up food. As if there had been any chance he had not heard everything Edward had practically screamed into the night while they were less than ten feet from them both. At least Henderson had given them the pretense of privacy by taking several steps away from where they had been arguing.

“Does Mr. Nigma have a preference for what exactly he would like from an Indian restaurant?” Henderson asked.

“Steamed chicken momo with a soy sauce substituted for the tomato based broth. If wherever you go doesn't have it, yellow curry will do… oh, and get a few orders of modak. He ‘has’ to balance the savoury with sweet, apparently,” came Jonathan's immediate and natural reply.

Henderson gave him a quizzical look, but was smart enough not to press for information. 

“And for you, Sir?” he asked instead.

“Sambar, it's the only thing I can stomach from the cheap restaurants within city limits.”

“Yes, Sir. I will call to dispatch another vehicle immediately-”

“Actually, I would prefer it if you did it yourself. Nothing against the others, mind you, but the more we play telephone with the order the less likely we are to get what I asked for. And we wouldn't want that now, would we?”

“No, Sir.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Henderson.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Certain now that the food order would go off without a hitch, Jonathan followed the path up the rest of the dock to the dark vehicle that was still idling as it waited for him to enter. Another gang member who was standing near the now opened trunk of the car moved to collect Jonathan's duffel from him, and although he did trust the men and women in his group, being in Arkham changed a person. Help was a weakness, and anyone not handling their own supplies were bound to find some of it missing the next time the owner went through their belongings. He promptly brushed the goon away and placed his bag into the trunk before closing it himself, and entering the back seat of the car, flush next to Edward for the second time that night. Jonathan would be glad for some space between them, even if it was less than a foot of plaster.

Until the moment the car door had closed and he was enveloped by the warmth inside, Jonathan had been unaware of just how unforgiving the near freezing weather was when accompanied by the icy sea spray that blew up from the waves that crested on the shores surrounding Gotham. Jonathan melted into the leather seats beneath him, bathing in the comforting heat that, for a ludicrously sentimental moment, reminded him of the nights he spent in his childhood home, sitting at the hearth of the fireplace. After only moments, he could already feel himself close to dozing during the car ride to his new home, but Edward made it clear that, cliche as it was, there really was no rest for the wicked.

“Nice car,” was all Edward had said.

“Is the idea of silence just that aberrant to you, that you cannot handle even ten minutes of it? Or are you so narcissistic that you can't go without hearing your own thoughts aloud for any amount of time?” Jonathan asked, with no real amount of venom, and Edward chuckled warmly, as if he hadn't been asked an insulting question.

“No, no. It just amazes me that you thought of practically everything, including a very nice car for us to ride in. I should team up with you more if this is the way you treat your allies… do you know much about cars? Or do you just see an expensive price tag and take it?”

“Small talk, Edward? Is that what I've reduced you to? No scathing remarks about my wealth used to mask your own insecurities?”

Edward grew quiet for a moment, and while it was a blessing to have a moment of silence, Jonathan couldn't help the nagging curiosity that ate at him as Edward continued to hesitate to reply. He turned to face his fellow escapee, and found the sight in front of him somewhat startling: Edward was staring at him with a calculating gaze that he normally reserved for his puzzles and riddles. It was a hard, cold look that made Jonathan feel less like a man who had been imprisoned for forcing people to experience the purest form of soul consuming terror possible, and more like a pathetic lab rat that couldn't find the piece of cheese at the end of the maze.

“Mostly,” Edward admitted with a slight shrug, “I was hoping to get to know you. And have a conversation that didn't end with you psychoanalysing me, Doc. Doesn't seem like you're interested though...” he said, and turned his head to look out the window at the buildings passing them by.

The two of them once again fell into a long silence, and this time Jonathan could feel Edward’s effort at staying quiet, but unlike times before, where Edward would stay quite only because he knew that pushing Jonathan further would result in physical harm to his person, this was a silence that was kept for Edward’s mental benefit, even though the man could never stand the absence of sound for long. After spending so much time in close quarters with him, Jonathan knew that Edward needed constant stimulation, or he would drive himself mad. It had gotten so bad inside of their shared cell at Arkham, that Orderlies would have to sedate Edward when his panic attacks got too out of hand, and with how incompetent the workers there were, that was everytime Edward was short with someone or even mildly frustrated with the way something was being handled, and while Jonathan was no stranger to the use of necessary sedation for the safety of inmates, he and any other doctor worth their weight in salt could see that what they were doing was meant to keep Edward from being an annoyance, and if he died from an overdose… well, to Arkham employees, that was just a bonus. However, Edward didn’t die, but he did get to the point of showing signs of conditioning before Jonathan himself stepped in. 

Jonathan remembered the moment he noticed that Edward was becoming too use to the way Orderlies reacted to his outbursts, and while he didn’t notice what had caused it to begin with, he saw the way Edward would stop his muttering and begin to look over his shoulder in paranoia. Waiting for someone to force him to be silent with drugs.

The very thought of it made Jonathan sick with annoyance.

With the new found blessed silence, Jonathan did manage to start dozing off during the drive to their new home. And it was only the sudden stopping of the car outside of said home that made Jonathan aware that he was yet to be in a location where he could finally sleep. He dragged himself out from his seat and grabbed his duffle from the trunk before silently trudging up the stairs to the flat he had hand picked for himself and Edward, unaware of Edward's careful movements to avoid being directly in Jonathan's way.

The food arrived within minutes of their arrival to the apartment, and although Edward tried to start up more polite conversation, the weather, thanking both Henderson and Jonathan for the meal, Jonathan rebutted his attempts with a cold glare that made the other man's confidence shrivel slightly, but not entirely. Edward instead kept himself entertained by chatting with Henderson about his time working for Jonathan, who seemed content to keep Edward busy to avoid Jonathan developing an aneurysm. The pair, Jonathan noticed with much disdain, were quick friends; that or Henderson was extremely polite.

“-and frankly I just can't imagine working with Joker. The man's more deranged than the March Hare,” Jonathan caught Edward saying and chuckled softly, dragging the attention of both colleague and gangster.

“Talk like that will offend the Mad Hatter, Edward,” Jonathan explained with a soft grin, and he was immediately taken by the brilliance of Edward's own toothy smile. No doubt he was pleased that he had managed to drag Jonathan into the conversation.

“You know,” Edward replied as he rested his cheek on his closed fist, “I completely forgot about Jervis. How is he holding up? Has Batman caught him yet, Henderson?”

“No, sir. Mr. Tetch has kept a relatively low profile since his escape from Arkham last February. Committing almost zero crimes to avoid capture. Sources say that he's planning something on the large scale, but with his lack of success in the past, I do not believe that Mr. Tetch's plan, whatever it is, will turn out to be of any significance regarding the safety of the both of you or any denizens of Gotham. That isn't to say no one will be injured or killed, but the number will be relatively low, I am certain of it.”

“A simple ‘no’ would have done,” Edward said with a laugh.

“My apologies, sir, but gathering and relaying information is my specialty,” he replied.

“You can't have regular goons like the rest of us, can you Jonathan?” Edward asked.

“No,” Jonathan replied, simply, and Edward immediately burst into a fit of giggles.

“You did that on purpose,” Edward accused.

“Yes,” Jonathan said, standing. “Now if you both will excuse me, I am going to retire for the evening and since I'll be taking the couch I would prefer it if you both-”

“Why are you taking the couch?” Edward interrupted, with a puzzled look on his face.

“There's only one bed in the apartment and-”

Edward stood, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. Jonathan managed to pick out a few, confusion, shock, what appeared to be anger-

“Why is there only one bed?” Edward asked in a soft tone that betrayed his frustration.

This was a question Jonathan had been prepared for, but not with the tone of hidden rage that was to be found. He expected curiosity, confusion, he even expected Edward to make some unwanted sultry comment about sharing a bed but this… this was not something Jonathan prepared for encountering. He opened his mouth to explain, only to be interrupted again.

“You didn't think two of us would be here, did you?” Edward said.

Jonathan stayed silent.

“You son of a bitch. You didn't want me here at all! What, did you think that I wouldn't hold up my end? Or were you planning on ditching me?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Edward. I would never go back on my word like that-”

“Then why? Why prepare for everything except us both getting out?”

“...Henderson?” Jonathan said turning to the gangster, “I think it's time you and the others left for the night and patrolled the area.”

“Yes, Sir,” Henderson said and abruptly left along with the other few guards that had been standing around the room. Jonathan waited for the room to be empty besides the two of them to speak.

“Edward, the simple fact of the matter is that the odds of us both getting out were slim at best, I couldn't-”

“Couldn't what? Waste the money to buy an extra mattress for me?”

“I couldn't hope that we'd both make it.”

“Oh cut the crap, Jonathan!” Edward hissed angrily, “You didn't want me to escape! Admit it! Jesus Christ, I should have listened to Oswald. You know what he told me? He told me you wouldn't give a shit if I rotted in Arkham and I should partner with someone that did. And he was right!”

Oh, that stung on a way Jonathan didn't dare to admit aloud.

“Edward, please listen to me-”

“No, you listen. There's a lot of crap I'm willing to put up with. But when I partner up with someone I expect them to hold up their side of things. You said that you would set up accommodations for the both of us-”

“You wouldn't say yes if I had told you my real plan-”

“Oh you mean your plan to ditch me? Big surprise jackass, people don't like being left behind!”

“That wasn't my plan!”

“Then what was it? Huh? If it wasn't to get your silver-spoon-sucking ass out of captivity, what was it?”

“It was to get you out.”

“...Come again?”

Edward had lost some of his steam with Jonathan's confession, but was still visibly irate at the situation in which both rogues found themselves in. Jonathan tentatively walked towards where Edward was standing, getting within arm's reach of Edward before he continued.

“Day after wretched day I watched how those Orderlies would treat you, and I was losing my mind over it! All they did was drug you constantly to keep you quiet. It was disgusting, but to make it worse I watched how you grew used to their punishments. I watched you learn to be forced into submission and I hated it.

"Edward you are one of the few men that can really and truly aggravate me, you're bold, thick-headed, loud, obnoxious, a picky eater, and your riddles drive me up the wall. You get under my skin with so much efficiency I can only assume whatever deity is in charge of this hellscape made you to annoy me. And if I may be so frank, Edward, I couldn't sit and watch people mess with such an interval part of my life.”

By the end of Jonathan's speech, Edward had lost all of his gusto, but true to his nature, he didn't back down. He did however, cross his arms.

“That doesn't matter,” he insisted, much calmer now. “You promised me that there'd be a place here for both of us. I can make it out here alone, but you know me, Jonathan. I go mad alone.”

“You get along with Henderson fine. You would have had them regardless of if I had made it.”

“All your goons knew your plan to get me out?”

“Everyone involved in this operation, yes.”

“...so you think that makes lying to me okay? Because you're my knight in shining armor I'm suppose to forgive you?”

“I don't want your forgiveness. I want your safety.”

“Well, you have it. What do you want now?”

“To sleep.”

Edward laughed bitterly and looked down at his feet as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was silent for a long time, and when he finally looked back up his eyes were red and his voice was rough.

“Well, the bed is yours. I don't mind the couch, anything is better than our cell in Arkham.” Edward said.

“Your things are already in the room, Edward,” Jonathan said, “My team rounded up some of your old furnishings and set it up for you.”

There was another silence from Edward as he contemplated his next words.

“Fine. Then we'll share it,” Edward said, with none of the sarcastically erotic implications that Jonathan had been expecting from him. Jonathan wondered if Edward was truly uninterested in pushing his buttons, or if the lack of audience made such pursuits unnecessary. 

“That isn't-”

“Shut up and listen. If anyone needs somewhere decent to lie it's you. I don't need you upset in the morning because you didn't sleep well and the couch was unkind to your spine. We're both tired, you more so than I, so let's call it a night and maybe in the morning I'll have forgiven you.”

“I admit your plan is tempting.”

“Then what are we still standing here for?” Edward asked, and promptly turned towards the two doors that respectively led to what would become Jonathan's room and Edward's own quarters.

“Which room is it?” Edward asked over his shoulder as he hefted his duffle bag from where he had dumped it onto the kitchen floor.

“Right,” Jonathan said, grabbing his own bag from where it lay beside the sofa and falling instep behind Edward as he moved into the bedroom, who turned on the light as he passed the threshold.

It was a sparsely furnished room, with only the bed itself, a chest of drawers, a small desk and a chair decorating it. Without hesitation, Edward dropped his bag and fell onto the bed, as if executing a trust fall with the inanimate object. Jonathan placed his bag next to Edward's and squatted to open it.

“You seemed so full of life, Edward. Has the night finally caught up with you?” Jonathan asked, pulling out an old shirt to sleep in.

“I suppose. Mostly I wanted to see how cheap you were when it came to buying me a bed. It's comfy, I'm surprised.” Edward said, and sat up in time to witness Jonathan unzipping his prison jumpsuit. Edward wolf whistled, and Jonathan looked up in annoyance.

“Very funny, Edward.”

“I try.”

“And are you going to sleep in the clothes you escaped in?”

“I'm debating it.”

“Stop debating and change already. I want to sleep but not next to someone in jeans.”

Edward said nothing, but stood and walked to his bag, snatching it up from the floor and dropping it on the bed so he could dig through it for pajamas, or at the very least something that could be substituted for pajamas. He came up with a pair of sweats and changed into them, making a last minute decision to remove his old shirt.

“Have you got a spare shirt?” Edward asked as he threw his bag onto the floor near the foot of the bed.

“No,” Jonathan said.

“Guess I'll go without then,” Edward muttered to himself.

"You mean to tell me you don't have a shirt to wear to bed?"

"None that would be comfortable. Crucify me, Jonathan. It will hurt less than your scathing remarks," he said without any real venom.

Edward turned over the covers and crawled back onto the queen sized bed, taking up the spot that was nestled next to the wall.

Jonathan hesitated to do the same. Still uncomfortable with the idea of being so physically close to a man that he both couldn't stand and couldn't live without. Sharing a bed was intimate in a way that Jonathan wasn't use to. He could share a cell. He could embrace a man he had doused with fear toxin and feel his victim's heart palpitations. He could drive a knife into another's chest and feel blood soak his hands. But the simple act of laying next to another human being felt too vulnerable.

"You're thinking about this too much, Jon," Edward said, snapping Jonathan from his thoughts. Edward sat up, and scooted so that he was sitting at the edge of the bed, directly in front of Jonathan. "Come here," he said, and tugged Jonathan's arm.

Unprepared for the sudden force, Jonathan stumbled into Edward. His knees falling on either side of Edward's hips. Jonathan felt his face heat up with embarrassment that only continued to grow as he saw Edward smile brightly up at him.

"Edward!" Jonathan hissed and attempted to clamber up and off of Edward only to be forced to stay by Edward's firm grip. "Edward, let me go."

"Only if you promised to come to bed if I do."

"I thought you were angry with me."

"I am. But I'd like to go to bed before dawn. And embarrassment is a good way to get you to do something I want."

"It's also a very good way for me to grow upset with you."

Edward shrugged. "There's no one here to see you like this, Jon. It's just me."

Oh, and that was it. Wasn't it? The concern that Jonathan's reputation would be shattered by allowing himself this simple intimacy was the reason for his hesitancy. Why did Edward have to see him so plainly when not even Jonathan himself could see what was wrong?

"Your ability to read me so well frustrates me as much as your ability to get under my skin," Jonathan admitted.

"Oh, sweetie," Edward began, "haven't you figured out by now that the reason I can get under your skin is because I can read you so well?"

"I hadn't thought of it until now. Now let me go. I want to go to bed."

"Now you're talking sense, Darlin'."

Edward let go of Jonathan, and moved back to his spot next to the wall. He patted the empty space of the mattress as he smiled boyishly. Jonathan exhaled in a huff of fond annoyance, shut off the bedroom light, and climbed into bed next to Edward.


End file.
